Time in a Bottle
by sofasoapsopia
Summary: She was their insurance policy - if they fucked up, and they dearly hoped they didn't, she'd be able to give them one last chance. In which the guys look for the help of two teens instead of one - an occasionally high and lazy time wielder and a silver haired speedster. DOFP to XMEN:A, (temporary title, so original I know), with a side of OC/PeterPietro
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the X-Men franchise, only my OC. Any lines used from the movie are not mine, I do not claim to own them.**

So, basically, AU and OC with a side of Peter/OC

Not edited

(ps, can't find where I wrote it, but sh's 17, not 16)

* * *

" _Logan… when you get there, find me. I'll be younger, less experienced, maybe even a little high, but… if you fuck up, I'll be able to give you at least one more chance to redo it. Remember, Raven isn't the only one you need to stop. Good luck."_

* * *

Wendy blinked lazily as she watched the clouds over head roll over. Days like this when the sky was vibrantly blue and patches of clouds moulded easily, the sun shining strong even as a faintly cool breeze blew through the air were her favourite. Even more so when most people on the street were out somewhere else and she could freely smoke a joint without anyone yapping on her heels about what a delinquent she was. It made Wendy wonder how they could be so willing to waste their time nagging someone that didn't want their advice.

 _Time_. Wendy smiled to herself faintly and took a drag of smoke, blowing it out gently in rings. Unlike most people – or all people actually – Wendy had all the time in the world. Literally.

However, on this day at this current moment, Wendy was quite happy to let time run normally – in fact she even enjoyed it, viewing the world at the same rate everyone else did.

At this point in time, Wendy thought her life would be relatively normal. As much as she had the time and ability to do anything, there wasn't much that she actually did want to do. She was pretty happy and pleased with lazing around, getting a little high, letting life run its natural course. Wendy hadn't really had a purpose, and to be fairly honest, she didn't mind that at all. It meant everything was normal.

Then, a major blip went off in her head and jolted her out of her high, and many hours later a rental car rolled into her driveway, carrying the time anomaly that she had previously sensed.

That was the end of her vision of normality.

Wendy listened carefully as the car door opened and heavy boots stepped out onto the pavement. They sounded balanced, his steps even and slow as he walked closer towards her. Workers boots. She wondered idly what a physical labour worker had to do with little ole her, a seventeen-year-old that was occasionally high and perceived as borderline delinquent.

He paused less than a yard away from her before plunking himself down onto the ground, lying parallel to her. Wendy wondered if she should be concerned.

Minutes passed in silence as Wendy patiently waited, pondering over what this man could possibly want to say, what he was even here for. What she heard she hadn't expected.

"We need your help."

His voice was deep and gruff, carrying a light smoker's rasp. Had there been a hint of an accent? Wendy picked up on these little details easily.

"…you need… my help." Wendy said slowly, dubiousness colouring her tone. "Why?"

"It's, uh, complicated."

She finally turned her head to him completely, brows furrowed over her sunglasses. "Uncomplicate it then."

He had this look on his face, she noticed, as if he was trying to figure out how he was going to say what he wanted to. In the end his face relaxed as he seemed to decide _fuck it_.

"I'm from - the future," he started all of a sudden, but Wendy didn't so much as blink. _Yeah_ , she figured that part already. "fifty years in the future." He continued, still looking straight up at the sky with eyes that to Wendy, seemed old.

Connecting the dots had always been particularly easy for Wendy, and the ones that had been on their lonesome since she sensed the blip and car drove on to her street were now starting to form a picture. (she'd guilty admit to having slowed down time for a bit, watching out of the corner of her eye as the rental rounded the corner and came closer to her in slo-mo. Wendy had in fact more time to create all the dots of her puzzle than the actual three-four minutes that it would have been)

"Let me guess," Wendy said with a sigh. "I sent you back here?"

He paused, "Yeah."

"I see," she muttered, mind racing. She couldn't imagine what would happen in fifty years' time that her future self-felt the need to send some back. Wendy hated going back to fix and or redo something, mainly because she'd only just recently discovered she could send her own consciousness back, so of course there would be a limit to how far back she could go, and the resulting migraine that came wasn't entirely welcomed. The second reason why she didn't like it felt like she was cheating; taking someone else's free will and choice away from them.

After all, the whole point of going back was to fix what had been fucked up, right? Whether it was her fuck or someone else's fuck was up in the air.

Wendy sighed again, feeling tired. "Fifty years, huh? I guess you have… powers too, then, right?"

He simply lifted his hand, clenched it into a fist, and then three, creamy, pointy bones slowly grew out from between his knuckles.

Wendy stared. "That's fucking gross," she blurted. She looked up, looked back down and stared some more, then looked up to his face again. He was watching her with amusement. "Are we like, friends, or something in the future?"

He huffed a ruff chuckle, "I guess you could say that."

Her nose twitched. "Uh, well, you can justumm, put that away now. That'd be great thanks."

The bones slinked back down into his hands with this awful grinding meat sound.

"So, are you in?"

"What do you even want me to do?" she peered at him with hidden curiosity. "I'm non-combative, can't even swing like an axe or something without dislocating my shoulder."

He – Wendy really needed his name, she was getting tired of referring to him as he, the guy, or that man – sat up, pushing her to sit up as well. As he began to explain, she noticed he spoke with his hands, "Before I got here, your future self told me that you'd be able to help us if he messed up. One chance to fix what we missed."

"I figured that part out already," it didn't take a genius find out that that was the most possible case, considering that it was more than likely that the future was fucked up enough as it was that it warranted going back practically half a century to fix. _Fifty years_ , for fucks sake, Wendy could barely believe it. "I mean, I want to know what's going on. Like, what exactly is it that you _don't_ want to screw over?" she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

The guy looked like he swallowed a lemon for a second. Or swallowed his cigarette.

Clearing his throat, he rubbed his large hands and began story time. Wendy guessed he got the memo that she had all the time in the world to here this story. "It started ten years ago, in 1962…"

Wendy listened attentively with sharp ears, burning everything into her mind. From 192 and the Cuban Crises to fifty years later, where nothing but war and chaos ruled the earth, everyone either dead, hiding and running for their life.

He – Logan, he'd finally introduced himself – stopped when he finally led up to how he ended up sitting next to her. Golden eyes hidden by sunglasses flicked to the car behind them.

Time slowed down again once more.

Wendy would be a liar if she said that the future concerned her. If there was one thing that Wendy was sure of about time, it was that anything could change it. Time was not… _fixed_. It wasn't set in stone or the like. Already Logan's presence was causing ripples. Like the fact that he met _her_ , which she knew that had his consciousness not been sent back in time, there would probably be a good few years or even decades before the original him and her would meet.

Already this could be enough to change the fate of the future, with or without her there. It would fix itself, Wendy present or not. She wasn't the least bit worried. If anything they probably wouldn't even need her help, the chances that they would achieve what they hoping to was high. Wendy rolled that thought around her head. _But then again_ … a push was good, but the _right_ push was better. The possibility that Raven – or Mystique – might not be stopped was still there, along with the construction of the sentinels.

In real time, or, in the perception of time in which every human in the world perceived together, Wendy rubbed her eyes tiredly. It hadn't even been half a minute since Logan stopped speaking.

"Right then," she inhaled a lungful of smoke from her almost forgotten joint. "where to next?"

A backup plan was good. A chance to redo it was as good as any. After all, Wendy out of all people knew that time wasn't limited to only two paths. Who knows, maybe the world would end in war and chaos sooner than later.


	2. Chapter 2

"So what's in DC, huh?" Wendy leaned back in her seat, lazily sprawled across the back of the car. The windows were open, per her request, and now she was just relaxing without a care, letting the wind blow stray wisps of brow hair into her face and all around.

"Another mutant, apparently." Druggie – Charles his name was – said, his hand cupping half of his face. Wendy's eyes caught on to the way his fore and middle fingers pressed naturally against the temple of his head as he frowned over his sunglasses.

She watched him dubiously from behind her own sunglasses, flicking between gazing at Logan then him. The man that was sitting not even more than five feet away from her was nothing like the kindly, humorous professor that Logan claimed him to be. All Wendy saw was a bitter and cynical man with little hope and belief in what he was doing.

She leaned over to the nerd – Hank as he had so fumblingly introduced himself – sitting next to her and whispered, "Is he always like that?" she didn't mind, but, well, when this was all over and done, Wendy didn't think she'd mind going to this 'School for Gifted Youngsters' thing. It sounded pretty cool actually, and if she could convince her already-showing-signs-of-mutations siblings to go, then even better. Idly, she wondered what led her mother to believe that having seven children was a great idea.

"What, depressed?" Hank shrugged, a sad half-smile on his face. "He's… I'm hoping that this'll do him some good."

Wendy glanced back at the man that looked like he was nursing a severe migraine. Or a major hangover. "Maybe," she shrugged, lips twitching and gave Hank a pat on the shoulder. What a good friend this guy was, Wendy couldn't imagine how boring it must be, cooped up in a mansion with the British downer.

For the next several hours Wendy drifted between sleep and consciousness, just slightly irritated with the fact that speeding up time faster than what seemed normal wasn't the same as slowing it down. The only thing that guaranteed that was sleep. Of course.

When they finally arrived, after several arguments over whether they were reading the bloody map right (old/new friend and hungover hippie or not, she wacked them both hard over the head with the magazine she brought and the map ended up in Hank's sheepish hands) and switching drivers, Wendy could not be happier then to stumble her way out of the car and roll on the ground.

"Sweet, sweet Earth…" she mumbled into the freshly mowed grass, spread eagle on her stomach.

"Next time I'm driving." Logan agreed as he stepped over her.

"Don't get used to it." Charles said, irritation colouring his voice. Wendy let the smile that had been itching to appear cross her face as Hank pulled her off the ground. She let it drop instantly as she flopped onto him, arm dropping over his shoulder as all of her weight fell on to him. Logan knocked on the door ahead.

They stumbled together as they walked, Wendy inwardly laughing at the blush covering Hank's face. Despite her generally 'introvert' – her siblings fondly referred to it as 'anti-social' – ways, Wendy loved to tease.

When they got to the door a blond woman, pretty and aged now but must have been absolutely beautiful when she was younger, had her hands up waving in exasperation. "Oh god, look, I'm so sorry for whatever he's done. I'll just - write up a check."

"We're not cops," Wendy smiled charmingly, suddenly aware of the high that still hadn't left her. "Just need to talk to him, ma'am."

The woman looked at her, confusion flashing on her face before she nodded uncertainly, calling out over her shoulder, "Peter! There's someone here to see you!"

She turned back to them, a strained smile on her face. "Magda Maximoff, you can just – come right in, he's down in the basement. "

Wendy held a palm up, "Thanks."

"Was it just me or was that a little, uh, awkward." Hank whispered in her ear as they walked past. Wendy shrugged. Like hell she knew, this was the most social interaction she's had with someone that wasn't family for the last few months. Most days she was either high or coming down to actually care whether the was any tension in the air – she noticed all right, but she just didn't give a fuck.

"I dunno dude." she replied just as quietly, finally leaving Hank's shoulder to step in behind Logan. Music was the first thing she heard as they stepped down inside. The next was the repeated quick swish and something being hit every second.

Wendy blinked, mouth opening slightly as she took in the sight of all the illegal contraband. Twinkies. There were boxes everywhere. There was even a store-like refrigerator on one side of the room containing several stacks of them and other little hand goodies. A dark coloured bed with pillows strewn over it and a mismatched patched throwover, two out of place couches and a bean bag with many, many colourful cushions that didn't match, an arcade game – was that packman? – sat close to the bottom of the steps. She even spotted a stop sign, and posters everywhere. A TV set and a shelf of books, VCR's and little baubles sat in a corner.

What jolted Wendy the most out of her usually lazy, calm and slightly high stupor in this very illegal man-cave was the realisation that the silver blur that flashed on either side of the table tennis was a _person_.

Her eyebrows dipped out of curiosity, and time slowed down. Charles' foot was in the air, barely seeming to move now as he tried walking down the stairs and Logan was mid-blink, eyelids going closing less than a millimetre as each second for her passed normally.

And the silver flash that had been in front of her wasn't so quick anymore now.

"What do you guys want? I didn't do anything," it – he, really – said, a focused expression on his face as he went after the ping pong ball that flew in the air. Even with Wendy's perception of time sped up the boy was still quick on his feet, reaching the other side of the table before the little white ball even got more than a quarter past the net.

Wendy was captivated, watching him as her titled to the side. This was so… oh she didn't have a goddamn word to explain what she was feeling. Never in her whole life had she met anyone else that could do what she did. And not just the whole 'I have superpowers omygod!' – which she hasn't, because if anyone had powers they certainly wouldn't and shouldn't be showing them off –, but like, similar to _her_. (somewhat similar? His perception of time was incredibly different, it counted, right?)

Her siblings had powers definitely yeah, but none of them had a hand over time like she did. Virgil could just blow things up, Oscar had his skewered self-healing, and the triplets controlled varying elements. She hadn't a single clue about what was up with little Eren but the lights tended to flicker on and off whenever he was off on one of tantrums again.

But this – what was his name again? Peter? – _Peter_ … Wendy gathered herself up, reeling back in all of wonder and amazement. They were on a mission here. A totally important one, of which she had still yet to hear the plan of.

"I've been here all – day…." He'd twirled around, finally catching sight of her staring at him, probably a bit creepily too. She did still have her shades on and Wendy rarely did tend to move her facial muscles, not unless she needed to. Like how she charmed Mrs. Maximoff. Or if she was high. It just happened sometimes.

He squinted, taking hesitant steps towards her as though she was a giant grizzly or any form of animal ready to attack. Her nose twitched at that thought. As if she would attack anyone–she was too lazy for that. His light brown eyes – Wendy was reminded of puppies – widened, giving him the look of a deer in headlights, silently mouthing 'oh'.

"You.. you're like me?" and suddenly he was in her face. Wendy barely restrained herself from jumping the fuck away. Hank was still almost frozen in place behind her. "You can move fast too?! Oh dude, that's so cool. Man I thought I was the only one!"

Whether it was habit or not, Peter talked fast. It wasn't exceptional, but it was above average.

Slowly, as though not to startle the boy who was exclaiming his joy and relief with wild hand and arm gestures – the type she would normally liken to flailing in excitement –, Wendy lifted her hand in the air before letting her palm drop down on to his forehead with a slap. He flinched a little but finally stopped moving, looking at her with those large, excited eyes. She pushed him back slowly. "Personal space, dude," she mumbled, before lifting her sunglasses off her face. Golden hues surveyed his boyish and lightly tanned, smooth face and his curly-wavy, silver hair. "Wendy Rivet," she introduced, nodding on the syllabes.

He was still staring at her. Wendy wondered if he ever blinked. "O-uh Peter! Peter Maximoff, resident cool guy and speedster." He fumbled over his words, crossing his arms over his chest and lettings his lips quirk into a cocky little grin.

Wendy raised her brows. "Cool guy?"

Peter shrugged, palms up and waved down his body in answer. "W _ell…_ " his teasing tone amused her, so she hummed in agreement jokingly.

"So um, to what do I owe the pleasure of a pretty babe like you?" Peter tilted his head, smirking a little and tapping his foot quickly.

"Not me." Wendy shook her head, watching as he left to grab an ice cream. She watched with a light quirk of her lips that she found incredibly hard to resist as he all but shoved one bashfully into her hands as well. She jutted her chin out to Logan who seemed to have finally blinked and was now opening his eyes. "These guys. We've been driving for hours to get here."

Peter's silver eyebrows furrowed, he pointed finger to his chest. "For me?"

"Yeah, can't figure out why though…" Wendy murmured, trailing off. She let her the corner of her lips twitch so he'd know it was a joke. Logan had told her almost everything except for something really important: where they were going to find this 'Erik' and how they'd get him. She figured the reason she didn't know yet was because they wanted to announce it when they got Peter, so then they wouldn't need to explain it again. Lazy bastards.

Peter frowned playfully, ice cream in hand and pout on his lips, "Heyyyy…"

Wendy gave him a look before slipping her sunglasses back down and slowly ate her ice cream as Peter hopped onto a couch.

And then time sped up again. The guys did double-takes when they saw Peter sprawled out and finishing his ice-cream. They did another one when they saw _her_ eating ice-cream. "So," she said between bites. "what was it that we were gonna do again?"

Logan stared at her flatly. It was the type of look that resembled the one her teachers more than often wore when they were forced to deal with her. It was two parts exasperated, one part disbelieving and one part fondness. Charles looked both like he was in cardiac arrest and like someone had planted a massive stick up his butt. Hank was looking at Peter like he was the most interesting thing since birth as the silver haired teen zoomed all across the room.

"…a teleporter?" Hank asked after a momentary silence, a look of curiosity and wonderment crossing his face.

Logan sighed and shook his head. "No, he's just fast. But when I knew him, he wasn't so… _young_."

Wendy snorted quietly, "You say that like it's a bad thing. If I'm getting this right you're over a century or something, _old man_."

Logan was giving her that look _again._

" _A century?_ " Peter stage whispered, eyebrows raising so high they almost touched his hairline while his eyes widened comically. "Well no wonder you'd think we're young, you're practically a mummy."

Wendy held out a fist. He bumped it.

The possible start of a beautiful friendship.

"But seriously, what're you here for? Wendy says you need my help." He started playing packman, and soon enough Wendy wandered over to watch.

"Yeah, you still haven't told me how we're finding this 'Erik' guy that you need so much." Wendy quoted in the air. She hadn't asked so many questions before, because to be fairly honest hadn't been all that interested, but now she was really itching to know what the fuck they'd be doing.

Logan seemed to buff himself up, placing his hands on his waist while Hank coughed into his hand sort of awkwardly. A whoosh and the basement door was firmly closed and the music played louder, and Peter was back at the packman.

"We…" Hank fumbled, hands waving slightly. "already sort of know where Erik is. It's the getting him out part that we need your help with. He's actually being held in a highly secured facility."

"Prison break? That's illegal y'know. What's in it for me?" Wendy could tell that at this point he was just teasing. He was excited, it was written on his face though the others couldn't see it from where they were.

Charles, who had mostly just been silent up until then, rubbed a finger in his eye, "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

Both teens froze. Wendy certainly did _not_ remember hearing about this part. "Did… did you just say the Pentagon? As in – as in that building that, y'know, looks like a pentagon?"

A pause.

Well, then. Wendy wondered how she went from smoking a joint and enjoying the clouds to committing a felony on the agenda for the week. But, strangely enough, Wendy wasn't scared. If anything, Wendy would say that she felt eager. She'd never done petty theft like Peter – this fucking room, man – but who in their right mind could say that the first act of crime they'd ever committed was breaking someone out of the Pentagon? Clearly her morals weren't as good and high as she had so previously thought.

Peter finally seemed to be able to speak up. "How do I know I can trust you? How do _we_ know?" _Oh_ , Wendy stared curiously, _would you look at that_ , there was and edge of caution in his eyes, not to mention he said _we_ , as in the both of them. Did this mean they _could_ be friends?

Wendy jumped in. Peter might have been okay with her, she was his age and the first thing she did was basically show off what she could do, but the other guys? Yeahhhh… No. It was one thing to be told you'd be breaking into a prison to bust a guy out – it was another thing to be told that the prison they'd be breaking into was in the Pentagon, which wasn't just a simple _highly secured facility_.

If they got caught they'd go to jail for this, like, a life sentence or something. (Wendy was a pessimist, she had no idea how long they'd be sentenced.) They were still gonna do it though, Wendy still had to go to Paris after all. Convincing Peter to continue with helping would go a lot smoother if he knew now that they were all mutants.

"Hey Peter, they're – cool, like us, the whole power mutant thing." Peter still looked hesitant.

Charles stared at him intently, muttering to Logan, "Show him."

Wendy wanted to laugh so badly at the disturbed look on Peter's face as the bones emerged out of Logan's knuckles. She wondered briefly if that's what she had looked like too when she first saw them.

Peter opened his mouth several times before he ended up shrugging, "That's cool, but it's disgusting."

"That's what I said." She muttered under her breath. He held a fist out. They bumped.


	3. Chapter 3

**not edited**

Wendy once again found herself in the back of the rental car, only this time they had a new passenger. Somehow they had managed to convince Peter to get into the car, and now he was sat in the middle seat, between her and Hank, tapping his fingers and his foot, bumping his leg into her's over and over again.

They had a few hours to kill before they got to D.C, and Wendy knew it would be hell for him. Now, all she really had to decide however was whether she wanted to keep her new friend company or sleep the trip off.

She stared at him in consideration.

Wendy didn't really make friends easily – well, she could, she kind of just did with Peter if she was reading this right, and it wasn't like she was horrible and bitchy, but more than most everyone else just seemed to get bored with her. Not even the other um... _hippies?_ We're they hippies? Could she be considered a hippy? Wendy would totally be up for wearing flowers and flowy dresses and or skirts/pants if they didn't look so bad with her leather jacket. Whatever it was, not even the other _hippies_ liked hanging out with her.

Apparently she was too weird, too quiet and laidback, just plain _different_ from them. And then there were her eyes. Like how Peter's hair was bright and silver and simply not normal, hers were unnaturally gold and vibrant, it's why she was always wearing sunglasses.

So really, it was them that couldn't make friends. Wendy was an incredibly laid back and chill person, it wasn't her fault that she wasn't as adventurous and wild as her year group. She was _nice_ , her jacket and perceived 'don't give a fuck' attitude did not mean she was _bad_.

Then again… Wendy didn't actually care whether she had friends or not. She was perfectly fine being alone, as long as she had her siblings she was okay. But she didn't think she'd mind if she had someone she could hang out with. Wendy eyed Peter closer, more thoughtfully. Maybe it would be different with him? They _were_ both different from other teenagers, with the whole mutant powers thing.

Decision made, Wendy scratched her head before waving her hand in the air lazily. Time seemed to slow, almost to a stop, and Peter now moved at a pace that was just slightly above the average persons. Instead of a quick bobbing blur, he looked like any normal bored teenager, staring up at the ceiling with a resolute pout.

Wendy kicked his shin. "Hey."

He blinked and rolled his head towards her. His eyes lit up. "You!"

Wendy sunk deeper into her seat. "Me, yeah."

"How do you do that? You never answered me! Like, I don't get it?" Peter's face scrunched up. Wendy was momentarily confused. Do what…? "Sometimes you keep up with me, like right now, but then other times your just as slow as everyone else?"

She mouthed 'oh' in realisation. "I don't, move fast, not normally but I can if I want I guess? It's more like I speed up my perception of time, or I just slow everything but myself down." Wendy shrugged, fixing him with a small smile. Explaining her 'power' generally required effort, she wasn't a scientist, she couldn't be sure that what she was saying was actually right, but if she wanted to make next many hours at his pace bearable, she may as well give it her all and get along with him. "I can sort of control time, among other things in that regard."

"Control time, huh? That's pretty neat, and all I do here is run and have silver hair." He grinned, teasing himself though Wendy noted the slight hunch in his shoulders. She stored that away for later.

"Run and steal Twinkies?" Wendy raised a brow.

He shrugged in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "That too, yeah."

"I see," she said with visible amusement.

Peter grinned and ran a pale hand through his silver unruly hair. "So, uh, I don't think I've ever seen you at school?" there was a hint of something in his voice that Wendy was unable decipher.

"I don't live around here, so I wouldn't be at your school."

"Oh, yeah, I guess not," Peter was jittery again, having seemed to calm down when talking to her though now it was back.

She eyed him thoughtfully. "You okay there? You keep uh, moving. Bored?"

His eyes darted to hers for a second before they roamed all around the inside and outside of the car. He shrugged. "Yeah, well, when everything is this slow, _all the time_ , it gets pretty boring. There's nothing to do. It takes people so _oo_ long to even blink!"

Wendy grimaced, understanding perfectly what he meant. If she was getting this right, it hadn't even been a minute or so in the normal time stream humans traveled within (was time stream even even the right word? Wendy didn't know, but it sounded probable, so she'd used it). She patted him on the arm, sympathizing. If she had to spend the rest of her life like this, all the patience in the world wouldn't help her get through this crap.

The two teens slumped into their seats. The eternity long drive Wendy spent all of it in Peter's perception. They talked about almost everything. Wendy's family, Peter's mom and his two sisters, what classes they took at school and what they liked to do; at one point they'd had a competition to who'd gotten the most detentions and who got a detention for the most ridiculous stunt – Peter won, of course, all Wendy ever got detentions for were for being late, sleeping late, and kicking the nuts of irritating school football players.

It was the least she could do; the guy basically hadn't even known there were other people – 'mutants' – with powers besides his sister, plus, Wendy kind of had a bleeding heart, even though she rarely interacted with anyone at her school. Kicking bullies in the nuts was enough socialization for her.

By the time they'd gotten to D.C, Wendy figured they were friends now, and it was late out. She along with Peter had slept for what might've been around about twelve hours? She wasn't too sure, and wasn't exactly bothered in trying to calculate how much time in the time stream they had sat through translated to everyone else's.

She rubbed her eyes, stretching out like a cat before turning to Peter and clumsily patting him on the head. He was snoring, nose nuzzled into Hank's shoulder to which she was pretty sure the scientist hadn't noticed.

"Dude," she sighed, still out of it. She blinked blearily, "s'time to get up."

Peter grumbled and dug his head further. Wendy rolled her eyes and kicked him in the shin again, only harder this time. He waved his arm out in a pathetic attempt to shoo her away.

Grumbling herself, Wendy did what she normally did when her siblings wouldn't wake up – she stuck her pinky in her bottle of water, then stuck it in his ear.

Peter jumped out of his seat, flinging an arm in her face. Wendy sniggered at his disgusted face, mouth open in a frown and looking like he was about to gag as he desperately wiped at his ear. He shot her a betrayed look, and said, "You, are an evil person. E _eevviilll_."

Wendy simply sent him a lopsided smirk, opening the door as soon as the car stopped and tipping some water over her finger so she could clean it. "I told you to wake up. Not my fault you didn't listen."

Peter looked crushed. "But a wet willy?"

"At least it wasn't a purple nurple," Wendy said, like that would make it better. Peter blanched and pulled his open jacket together firmly.

Wendy rolled her eyes, ducking out of the car when she felt the strong urge to grin. She squinted, surveying the motel and parked cars.

Around her time sped up. A dog was barking, smoke was rising up into the night sky in fogs, and several motorbikes revved in the distance.

Peter appeared next to her, seemingly gotten over her wake up call and was eyeing the scene just as doubtfully as she was. He called behind him to the guys getting out of the car, "Hey, are you guys sure this is the right place?"

Wendy eyed the building. She hadn't even known D.C had little bar and motels like this one. She'd always imagined all of it as a city – like, no houses and little suburbs, just city and skyscraper.

"Yep, this is it." Logan grunted, slamming the doors shut and locking the car before making his way past the lingering people towards the entrance.

Charles… still looked miserable, Hank looked just as unsure as she felt, clutching at his sweater with strained hands, and Peter sent her a dubious look. Wendy shrugged and walked up the crunching gravel path. Peter stuck behind her, taking it slow. She bet it must've been excruciating and silently patted him on the arm for support again.

They rented out two rooms, one for her and one for the guys. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, Wendy inspected the bathroom, before leaving her room altogether and stepping inside the guys'.

"So," she said, hands on her hips. "what's the plan?"

* * *

Wendy sighed, drumming her fingers over the steering wheel of the car that Charles had trusted her with in boredom. So apparently, during this part of their plan to save the future, she was useless. _The getaway driver_ , she grumbled silently. And she had really wanted to help them break into the Pentagon…

Wendy leaned back further into her seat, playing with the keys absentmindedly. When Logan had told her she could give them a chance when they fucked up, this was not the time they would fuck up. He'd seemed absolutely sure that they'd get this Erik guy out of his prison – the one made out of concrete and sand and glass, some hundred or whatever floors below the ground – without her as a safety measure.

 _Men_ , she rolled her eyes. She paused thoughtfully, because they did have Peter after all, and just this morning – like, _three_ in the morning – he'd dragged her out to buy – yeah, they'd actually _bought_ , with actual money instead of just stealing – a roll of duct tape and a bunch of late night/early morning snacks. Wendy had to concede that with Peter there they probably wouldn't need her that much. But still!

Wendy's time to shine would be later, in Europe later, at that Peace conference in Paris. She was the insurance – the chance of screwing up was higher in Paris than it was here, and if they did, she would one of two things: send her mind back to her limit and either warn the guys about what they'd done wrong so they could avoid and or fix it, or do that but keep the knowledge to herself and subtly guide them away from what bad choices they made. They hadn't wanted to leave that type of responsibility into her hands, not because they didn't trust her, but because she was just a kid, a teen in their eyes. Charles was adamant that if something went wrong, it was Erik's fault.

He was a metal controller, fancied himself the name _Magneto_ , and was _dangerous_. They didn't trust him one bit. Logan had told her the story, she knew what happened, and was perfectly compliant when Charles asked them not to reveal what she could do, or at least keep hidden as much as she could. He was majorly paranoid though he kept it well hidden, but Wendy figured if she had to seek out the help of an ex-friend that had caused her paralysis from the waist down she would be too.

Wendy could see that it pained the guys to leave it in her hands, they didn't want to put that sort of pressure on her, but the way she saw it, they'd have no choice. Wendy understood their worries – all of them – perfectly and was already preparing herself for the worst. She wouldn't tell a soul about what happened if anything did and she was forced to go back.

Wendy got comfortable, a foot on the dashboard and another on her seat as she gazed out the window. It was early noon, warm yellow rays spilling across sharp white buildings, the lively green grass of the Pentagon's lawn, the variety of coloured cars parked and driving, and all the tourists milling about and having picnics. She played with the binoculars hanging around her neck.

She was staring at the daunting building in the distance when she heard her cue: a wailing alarm, loud, clear, and most likely making everyone in the buildings heart race. People rushed out like a herd, stumbling and running away as fast as they could to the safety site.

Wendy waited several minutes before Hank radioed in, telling her get the car ready for driving. Her nerves lit on fire as she started the car, hands placed firmly on the wheel and her foot hovering over the pedal. The anticipation was killing her, and when she flicked a glance out the window she jumped, startled to see Peter's face looking inside.

She unlocked the doors and he deposited a pale Charles looking like a drowned cat in the passenger seat. She hesitated before giving him a good pat on the shoulder, immediately knowing that the reason why he felt so sick was because of the speed in which Peter ran. "You'll get over the nausea… probably." She tried sympathising. She hadn't been expecting it either when Peter had zoomed them both to that twenty-four-hour store at three in the morning.

Charles gave her a pointed look before sighing loftily into his seat. In the back the seats were filling up quickly with green and nauseated men. Peter sat on the floor of the backseat, face poking between the two front seats, beaming wide as he gazed out the front window, and yelled, "Step on it!"

Wendy did exactly that.

Five minutes after the Pentagon's initial alarm went off they were hightailing it out of there.


End file.
